


all i wanna do (is touch you)

by haleofStilesheart



Series: Tumblr Prompts [22]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Insecurity, M/M, Touch-Starved Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: To be completely honest, Stiles had no idea how dating worked.Strike that, he basically knew how dating worked, he wasn’t an idiot. After extensive research, he had come to the conclusion that dating consisted of three basic principles: proximity, dates, and physical intimacy. Only problem is: Derek doesn't like to be touched.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shealwaysreads](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=shealwaysreads).



> For the prompts: 771. "I can't stop thinking about you." and 772. "Can I hold your hand?" from [this](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/post/148945338730/779-writing-prompts) list

To be completely honest, Stiles had no idea how dating worked.

Strike that, he basically knew how dating worked, he wasn’t an idiot, regardless of what Jackson said. Pulling from TV, movies, and the other couples in his life, he had come to the conclusion that dating consisted of three basic principles: proximity, dates, and physical intimacy. 

So, armed with his little checklist, Stiles examined his own relationship to ensure things were running smoothly.

Proximity, of course, he had in spades.

He and Derek lived in the same town, had the same friends, were in the same pack, so that worked out quite nicely. They sat next to each other during pack meeting and movie nights, even eating off each other’s plates on occasion, Derek stealing the pepperoni from Stiles’ pizza and Stiles snatching Derek’s uneaten pizza crusts as they watched whatever movie the betas had ultimately agreed on.

They were attracted to each other, almost magnetically so. If they were on opposite sides of the room when a pack meeting started, they ended up standing side by side or face to face halfway through it, much to the extreme amusement of the rest of the pack, particularly Peter.

Proximity, check.

Dates were another thing he had going for him.

He and Derek went on plenty of dates, ranging from lunch at local diners and Mom and Pop restaurants to visits to history museums and the huge, gorgeous library a few towns over, Stiles determined to absolutely sweep Derek off his feet. Having never dated anyone before in his nineteen years of life, Stiles was committed to wooing him, wanting to properly wine and dine him, well aware of how much Derek truly deserved it.

He desperately hoped that Coke and curly fries counted as wining and dining considering the fact that he was a poor college student and couldn’t really afford anything else, no matter how much Derek deserved it. But the wide smile that would spread across Derek’s face, dimples and bunny teeth on full display, when Stiles pulled up outside the loft for one of their dates was enough to make all the thoughts of their dates not being good enough completely vanish.

Dates, check.

But when it came to physical intimacy, of any kind whatsoever, he was at a loss.

He never knew what to do with his hands when he sat beside Derek on the couch, always wondering if it was alright to touch him, usually ending up just folding his hands in his lap or chewing his fingernails. Whenever they went out anywhere, to the movies or a beach concert a few towns over, he always debated whether or not to slip his arm around Derek’s shoulders, whether or not he should reach out to hold Derek’s hand.

It was a constant struggle, battling with himself over whether or not he should touch his boyfriend, too scared of triggering Derek or somehow traumatizing him even further just by letting their fingers graze each other. He wanted to touch Derek, he really did, but it was just too intimidating, the range of possibilities flitting through his head as he debated with himself.

Derek might shut down the way he did when something reminded him of Kate or Jennifer or any of the other pieces of scum on earth that had ever hurt him. Stiles could still remember the horrible way Derek’s face had gone shuttered when he’d caught the scent of the same perfume Kate used to wear while on a date with Stiles at the new Japanese restaurant in town.

He might curl into himself like he did when he was upset, subtly hunching over to shield himself from the rest of the world as he sunk into a deep state of depression. He’d done the exact same thing when the anniversary of Laura’s death rolled around or the calendar marked another year since the fire, shutting the rest of the pack out of the loft, not even letting Stiles in.

But perhaps even worse was the very real possibility that Derek might break up with him, having an eerily clear vision of it in his head. Stiles would lay his hand over Derek’s as they reclined on the couch watching TV, Derek would yank his hand back like he’d been burned, glare at him with real heat in his eyes for the first time in years and throw him out of the loft, tell him never to come back.

That thought and the possibility that he could hurt or offend or upset Derek in any way whatsoever was enough to deter him initiating any physical contact. Instead, he waited for Derek to lean in for a kiss when he dropped him off, waited for Derek to squeeze his shoulder in greeting when he arrived at the loft, waited for Derek to wrap an arm around his waist when they were walking through grocery store or art galleries.

Sometimes, like now, it was extremely difficult to refrain from touching Derek. They were lounging on the couch at Scott’s house, it was his turn to host movie night, as Isaac and Jackson argued over what movie to watch next and Derek was smiling so fondly at his betas, looking like a proud father, that Stiles just wanted to kiss him, wanted to run his fingers through Derek’s stubble, wanted to lean his head on Derek’s shoulder and wrap his arms around him.

But he couldn’t. So instead, he settled for sitting beside him quietly, their thighs almost brushing, as Isaac claimed victory and slipped his chosen movie into the DVD player. 

Stiles wasn’t sure what movie Isaac had chosen, not recognizing it at all as the opening credits began, but it was quickly made abundantly clear that the main focus was on a couple, evident by the way the movie began with a date scene, the couple on screen sharing so many casual touches it made his chest ache. Curious and just a bit desperate, he cast his gaze around the room, hoping to take a few cues from the other couples in the pack.

Erica and Boyd were sitting together on the couch on Derek’s other side, Boyd resting his chin on Erica’s shoulder as he ran his fingers through her long golden blonde hair, Erica sitting on his lap while she traced her bright red nails over the veins in the back of his other hand. Scott, Isaac, and Allison were all curled up together on the loveseat, Allison lounging in the middle as Scott and Isaac rested their heads on her shoulders, her fingers combing through their hair as they watched the movie.

Well, they were no help. As much as he would like to lay his head on Derek’s shoulder and loop his arms around him, he just couldn’t. Not if he didn’t know for absolute sure that Derek wanted him to. And the mere thought of asking terrified him into silence.

Not wanting to ruin the movie for anyone else, he tilted his head up to whisper into Derek’s ear, hand cupped over his mouth so as not to disturb anyone else, “I’m gonna go get some fresh air.”

Derek nodded with a small smile, turning his head to catch Stiles’ lips in a quick kiss, the brief touch making Stiles want to throw caution to the wind and climb into Derek’s lap. Shaking himself, he stood from the couch and quietly tiptoed out of the living room, carefully stepping around the pillows scattered across the carpeted floor.

Passing through the kitchen to the front door, he quietly slipped outside, breathing in the cool fall air. He felt like an asshole. A complete and total asshole.

He couldn’t even sit through a pack movie night without being a selfish jackass, without being desperate and needy. He would never understand what Derek saw in him.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, curling his fingers around his car keys as he paced on the front porch, he contemplated calling it an early night and just heading home. He could probably come up with a reasonable excuse for why he had to leave, omitting just enough information to avoid outright lying.

Maybe he could he was just really tired or had a paper to write that he’d only just remembered. But Derek wouldn’t believe that, he knew damn well that Stiles either wrote his essays the night they were assigned or waited until the last minute and while there was no in between, Stiles never forgot an assignment. He was too much of an understated overachiever.

Ooh, maybe he could fake an illness, complain of a stomach ache and go home to rest. But Derek would be able to tell that he wasn’t really sick, and even if he was sick he’d probably insist on taking care of him while he rested. 

Stiles never would’ve thought that having a caring, considerate boyfriend would be a bad thing.

Feeling even more like a jackass, Stiles jogged off the front porch and down the walkway to the sidewalk, hoping maybe a quick walk around the block would help clear his mind. He looked back over his shoulder at Scott’s house as he started walking down the sidewalk, praying no one would question his absence and come looking for him. He didn’t have a good explanation.

He still felt awful by the time he reached the corner of the block, standing on the curb and wondering why Derek even put up with him. Shoving a hand through his hair, he looked around for somewhere else to walk to, spotting the playground across the street and hoping he didn’t look too much like a creep going to a kid’s park at ten thirty at night.

He made a beeline to the swings, the way he always had when his mom and Melissa took him and Scott to the park, sitting down on the plastic seat and wrapping his fingers around the cold metal chains. Swinging a little bit, kicking his legs to propel him forward and backward, basking in the autumn breeze that wafted over him as he swung. 

“Mind if I join you?” An all too familiar asked just as he closed his eyes to savor the wind in his hair. He just nodded, opening his eyes but keeping them focused on the bright yellow slide a few yards away, hearing the squeak of metal and plastic as Derek took a seat on the swing beside him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Stiles shrugged, perhaps a little casually. He winced when he belatedly realized that Derek could hear him lie, mentally berating himself for being so freaking stupid. He should have just shrugged.

“Babe…” Derek said in his no-nonsense voice that Stiles recognized as the one he used to deal with the betas, sounding like an exasperated parent trying to get his rowdy kids under control in the grocery store. Stiles had heard his dad use that particular voice more times than he cared to admit.

Suddenly, but definitely not for the first time, an overwhelming rush of guilt washed over him, threatening to drown him alive as he sat on the swing. Great, not only was he a selfish jackass, he was a selfish jackass who’d ruined his boyfriend’s night too.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just left like that,” Stiles blurted out, unable to stand the deafening silence any longer. “I should’ve told someone.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Derek answered quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Stiles just looked down at his feet, kicking his shoe against the dark mulch, tightening his grip on the swing’s cold metal chains. He knew realistically he hadn’t done anything necessarily wrong but sometimes how much he wanted to touch Derek, however innocently, felt wrong.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Derek asked, Stiles somehow hearing the eyebrow furrow in his voice.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted, biting his lip the second the damning words were out of his mouth. It was odd how much the confession both lifted a weight from his shoulders and brought another crashing down. 

He tensed when he heard Derek inhale deeply, steeling himself for the inevitable. Derek would be polite and gentle, empathetic even as he dumped him. Despite knowing what would happen next, Stiles wasn’t fully prepared.

He wasn’t prepared for what Derek said next, either.

“I’d hope so,” Derek laughed, Stiles looking at him sharply in surprise. “I mean, I am your boyfriend, I’d hope you’d think about me a lot.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, aghast. “You don’t think it’s weird or creepy or clingy or anything?”

“Of course not,” Derek answered easily, shaking his head. “I think about you a lot, too.”

“Really?” Stiles couldn’t help but smile widely, feeling his cheeks flush at the oddly sweet words, a flutter of butterflies erupting in his stomach. Biting his lip again, dipping his chin shyly, he somehow managed to refrain from giggling like a schoolboy.

“Yeah,” Derek confirmed with a nod. Growing more serious, eyebrows furrowing again, he almost accusatorily stated, “But that’s not all. There’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

Sobering, Stiles instantly stopped smiling. The words seemed to choke him as he croaked out, “I-I wanna touch you…”

“And…?” Derek prompted gently.

“And it’s wrong,” Stiles continued. Hastily, not wanting Derek to get the wrong idea, he clarified, “You don’t like to be touched. But I wanna touch. I-I wanna hold your hand when we go out to dinner. I wanna put my arm around you when we go to the movies. I wanna cuddle with you on the couch and hug you when I come over.”

Breathing deeply, he forced himself on, “But I can’t. Because you don’t want that. And I can’t  _ not _ want that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, covering his face with his hands as he waited for the fallout.

“Stiles, it’s okay,” Derek assured him. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You can touch me.”

“But you don’t wanna be touched!” Stiles exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I can’t do something you don’t want. That’d make me just like―”

“Stop,” Derek commanded, cutting him off. “You’re not like her. Not in any way. Don’t you ever think that you are.”

“But, Derek―” Stiles tried to protest, eyes filling with tears. Derek cut him off by pressing his lips against Stiles’, gently cradling his face in his warm hands. Unable to resist, Stiles cupped Derek’s face in his own hands, eagerly returning the kiss while Derek wiped away his tears.

“You can touch me, Stiles. Don’t ever, ever be afraid to,” Derek rasped against his lips, hesitantly breaking the kiss. “I am beyond okay with you touching me. I  _ want _ you to touch me.”

“Yeah?” Stiles whispered, basking in the prickly feel of Derek’s stubble against his palms, their lips brushing with every word.

“Yeah,” Derek confirmed, sweeping his thumbs over Stiles’ cheeks. “And if you need to, you can always just ask me, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles agreed, nodding with a watery laugh as Derek straightened up, hands still on Stiles’ cheeks.

“You wanna head back?” Derek inquired, tilting his head to the side as he looked down at Stiles who shook his head. “Wanna stay here for awhile?”

“Yeah,” Stiles affirmed. “Let’s just stay here for a little bit.”

Derek nodded with a blinding grin, moving to sit back down on the swing beside Stiles. After a few minutes of companionable silence, Stiles ventured, “Hey, Derek?”

“Hmmm?” Derek hummed, turning to look over at his boyfriend.

“Can I hold your hand?” 

Without hesitation, Derek offered his hand, intertwining their fingers as they slowly swung side by side, the heels of their shoes dragging through the mulch as they stargazed together. It wasn’t very much but it felt like a victory nonetheless, and more importantly, it was a start. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to prompt me on [Tumblr!](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/)


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